


Why The Fuck Wasn't The Door Locked?

by MysticMusic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mentions of Breeding, Mentions of Omega Scott McCall, Mentions of knotting, No Sex, Not Beta Read, Off screen masturbation, Omega Peter Hale, mentions of rape/non-con but none actually in the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 11:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticMusic/pseuds/MysticMusic
Summary: Stiles isn't a conventional Alpha. Most people don't even realize that he is one. He didn't expect to walk in on Peter Hale in heat, but apparently he isn't the only one that isn't conventional.





	Why The Fuck Wasn't The Door Locked?

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read. Had another ridiculous idea that I couldn't get out of my head.

Stiles isn’t really a conventional alpha. Most people assume that he’s just a beta and some of the more narrow-minded think he’s an omega. Absolutely  _ no one  _ assumes right off the bat that he’s an alpha, but to be completely honest, he’s okay with that. Scott, of course, knows that he’s an alpha because they grew up together. They were practically brothers and it doesn’t help that Scott ended up presenting as an omega while Stiles was  _ in the room. _ Stiles learned a few tricks that day in his effort to keep from molesting his brother when his body was screaming ‘ _ Fuck, Mate, Bond, Care, Omega, Omega, Omega.’ _

 

His rut was almost triggered that day, but thankfully Melissa showed up and saved the day. Stiles had already presented as an Alpha by that time to the surprise of his father. One awkward conversation later and he had the knowledge of the world at his fingertips. Well. Not quite, but he had enough knowledge about what a knot was for it to feel like it.

 

Nine years later and most of his pack believes he’s a beta. He doesn’t correct them because there’s no point and it’s likely that they wouldn’t even believe him anyways. Let them think what they want.

 

Today, Stiles is on his way to Peter’s since the two of them have grown into being unlikely research partners. He has to ask Peter what he thinks of all of the drownings that have taken place recently. He’s thinking mermaids or sirens, but he really wants the older man’s more knowledgeable opinion.

 

He’s reading the evidence, trying to get some sort of hidden clue or something, and absentmindedly just walks into Peter’s apartment.

 

His knees give out and he has to grab the door frame for support. He feels his nostrils flare in response to the sweet smell of omega that seems to cling to every surface in Peter’s apartment.

 

Stiles’ eyes widen a fraction as he takes in the figure on Peter’s couch which is definitely the man himself. He’s panting and writhing and  _ shit.  _ Stiles’ rut is gonna trigger at this rate. He needs to leave. Preferably quickly. Maybe even running. But he’s forced to pause when Peter’s eyes lock onto his and the man’s nostrils flare as he gasps.

 

“Alpha,” he moans, back arching up on the couch and baring his neck in a very enticing way.

 

Stiles groans in annoyance. Escape plans gone, he kicks the door shut and locks it. New plan in motion, he rushes to Peter’s bathroom and starts rummaging through drawers for something, anything, to keep his rut from triggering. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the omegas pleas from the room over and he’s knocking everything over in his haste. He nearly drops to his knees and thanks the Lord himself when he finds Peter’s  _ intense  _ cologne stashed in one of the drawers. He grabs a rag and pours a lot more of the cologne than necessary on it. It’s expensive cologne. He really hopes Peter doesn’t make him pay for it after this because it would probably take up a good portion of his college fund. 

 

He lets out a loud guttural cough when he puts the rag to his nose, but it’s strong enough to muffle the omega scent for a little while. It’s definitely going to be a time crunch. He bends down and pulls out his shoelace to successfully bind the cologne rag to his head. Oh, Peter  _ so  _ owes him for this. 

 

Once he’s pretty sure the rag won’t fall off and leave him mercy to his rut he goes back to the living room. The idiot omega is sweating now, obviously in pain from his heat. Why the fuck isn’t he in his bedroom?

 

“Peter, you idiot. What the hell were you thinking,” he mutters to himself knowing Peter isn’t actually capable of functional thought at the moment.

 

The omegas eyes dart to him and he lets out an odd noise, something that manages to be between a moan and a whine. Damn it. He treads carefully over to the omega as one would to a sleeping lion. It doesn’t take much effort to pick the man up from the high he’s in at the moment. He’s gained some muscle over the few years of running and fighting things that wanted him dead, but not enough to hold the man for long.

 

Stiles breaks into a sprint, knocking things over as he goes, nearly running into walls in an effort to get to the man’s room. He drops Peter onto his bed none to carefully and wheezes. He exerted his energy and was suffering the whiplash from it. 

 

His ears are ringing, “Alpha, please, Alpha. Knot me. Fuck me,  _ please,” _ Peter whines from his position on the bed as he thrusts into the air. At this point, his eyes are glowing werewolf blue.

 

“No. Damn it, Peter. Please shut up. I’m not into rape,” his breathing is erratic. The cologne is the only thing keeping him from jumping the man, “Where are your toys, Peter?” He can’t leave the man like this, but there is _no way_ that Stiles is going to fuck him if he can help it. It would be rape. It isn’t like he’d mind fucking the man, but only when it’s entirely _consensual_ and not entirely hormones. His dick is fully hard at this point and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore it.

 

Peter doesn’t seem to even understand what he’d asked. He’s just writhing on the bed and pleading for an alpha to knot him. To  _ breed  _ him. Stiles shakes his head and wants to kick himself. He can’t get thoughts like that right now.

 

Stiles does the only thing he can possibly think to do in the face of a heat-crazed omega while he’s trying not to go into a rut. 

 

He slaps Peter across the face as hard as he can and growls, “ _ Where do you keep your fucking toys?” _

 

Recognition fills the man’s eyes. He’s gripping the sheets, knuckles going white, as he chokes out, “ _ Closet.” _

 

The speed at which Stiles flies to the closet is almost inhuman. He starts rummaging through clothes that lay on the floor until he finds a box. It’s filled with a bunch of different sex toys. From dildos to BDSM equipment, he grabs a few large dildos with knots and a vibrator and practically throws them at the man who is still fully clothed for some reason.

 

“ _ Help. Please. Alpha,” _ the man whines.

 

“Oh my god. Peter, you’re  _ useless.  _ I swear you owe me big time for this,” he pulls the man out of his shirt with relative ease and goes to unbutton the designer jeans that are practically tight enough to be a second skin. Of course, he isn’t wearing any underwear. Why would he wear underwear? He’s Peter Hale. Peter Hale’s too  _ sexy _ for underwear. 

 

Stiles quickly realizes that he was growling those things aloud and knows the cologne isn’t working much anymore. He needs to leave. He needs to leave  _ now.  _

 

He manages to sprint into the kitchen, fill a glass with water, leave it on his bedside table, and escape the apartment in about thirty seconds flat, barely remembering to lock the door behind him. 

 

Leaving the apartment was like waking up from a dream or getting air after being underwater for too long. He pulled the rag off his face and immediately gasped fresh air like a lifesaver. He’s still fully hard and he left his shoe in Peter’s apartment somewhere without the shoelace, but at least he survived.

 

Well. He’ll live for the three days of Peter’s heat until the wolf comes to kill him after that. He thinks about how hard it’d be to go into hiding as he walks to his jeep, but then he remembers that the man would probably be able to find him anyways and decides it's not worth it. He will die with pride. 

 

Or that’s what he tells himself during those three days until he comes home on the fourth to find the wolf lounging on his bed.

 

He freezes and they stare at each other for who knows how long. Neither wanting to be the first to back down, but his eyes widen considerably when Peter’s the first to look away.

 

“You’re an Alpha,” the man says it as if he’s just solved a really hard puzzle.

 

Stiles snorts, “Yeah. Not a very traditional one as you’ve probably figured out,” the other man just stares at him with a blank look on his face so Stiles continues, “I haven’t told anyone and I’m not, you know, planning to or anything if that's why you’re here.” He hasn’t told anyone and he really isn’t planning to. It isn’t his secret to tell.

 

“Why did you do it? Why’d you go through all that trouble to help me when you could have either left me in my own pain or just fucked me? The control you had, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Peter’s face is still blank, hiding all emotion from the world.

 

“I’m not into rape, creeperwolf and I wasn’t just going to leave you there, but If we’re asking questions why don’t I ask some too? First of all, why the fuck was your door unlocked?” Stiles knows he’s being rude, but he’s too agitated to stop, “Anyone could have come in and _ forced _ a bond with you. It wouldn’t have been hard. You were barely coherent and you were on the goddamn couch, Peter. The.  _ Couch _ . During your heat. Are you crazy? Why were you even off of your suppressants?” Stiles is spitting by the end of his rant, but he’s calmed. Peter is looking at his feet, looking like a scolded child.

 

Stiles rubs his face suddenly feeling tired, “Shit. I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean-”.

 

“No,” Peter cut him off, looking up suddenly, “No, you’re right. I should have been more careful, but my suppressants haven’t been very  _ effective _ since I came back from the dead. I think I may have developed an immunity towards them.”

 

Now that got Stiles’ attention. His brow furrows, “Why don’t you just get stronger ones?”

 

That apparently hadn’t been the right question to ask as Peter’s face morphs into something more pained, “Omegas aren’t allowed to buy them. Only Alphas or even betas can since they’re meant for when an Alpha leaves their Omega during a lengthy period of time. Family members can’t either or else I would have asked Derek.”

 

“I’ll do it if you want,” Stiles offers.

 

Peter shakes his head, “The Alpha and the Omega need to be mated.”

 

Stiles smirks, “I’d do that too.”

 

The man grimaces, “I’m not looking for jokes right now, Stiles.”

 

His smirk never fades, “You see, Peter, I don’t think my heartbeat stuttered, but you can listen again if you want,” Peter’s head snaps up and it looks like he’s listening so Stiles slowly says, “I’d mate with you, but only if you genuinely desired me as your mate since I know the mating bond affects you more as the Omega.”

 

Peter gawks at him before asking, “Why?”

 

“Well, didn’t you ever wonder why I research with you instead of Lydia, or even Scott? I like you against my better judgment, but I always sorta figured you were an Alpha so I never tried for anything more than researching buddies,” Stiles admitted.

 

“I try not to question the good things in life, darling,” Peter murmurs in a way that makes it seem like his world view just got flipped upside down.

 

“So, if you want to be mates,” Stiles drawled, mouth twitching in an effort to keep from smirking, “Think you can prove it?”

 

Peter’s mouth suddenly took the form of a downright wicked grin that should be illegal in all fifty states, “I think I can come up with a few ideas.”

 

Stiles let out a noise that he will forever deny ever came out of his mouth as Peter pulled him on top of him.

 

* * *

 

A couple of rounds later, Stiles is completely sexed out as he murmurs, “You proved it.”

 

Peter laughs.


End file.
